Just friends
by Time Lord of many names
Summary: N ways of how it could start.
1. T'hy'la

"Garak, do you know that vulcans hold some interesting concept that don't have exact counterpart on Earth? I'm not aware if something similar exists in the cardassian culture. Are you familiar to the word t'hy'la?"

Julian lifted his eyes from the plate, where he was toying with his food, and looked at the cardassian that was sitting in front of him. His observant eyes made Garak's lips tremble in a ghost of a smile.

"On Cardassia we prefer to call things by their proper names. A friend is a friend. A lover is a lover."

Julian grinned.

"And what about your illustrious stories about exquisite figurative language of the cardassian literature and its richness of allegory?"

"With all the richness of allegory, my dear Julian, it's still always clear what was meant," he bowed his head slightly, sending a fork with some food to his mouth. "If you would dare to apply this vulcan concept_ to me_, I would have to think, what kind of feelings you want to convey."

"But Garak," Julian got embarrassed, "we are just friends."

"Of course, my dear Julian, of course," the cardassian smiled, wiping his lips with a napkin.


	2. Measurements

"And still, Garak, I sincerely don't get, why did you require to take my measurements once again. I may assure you that I haven't gained or lost weight and certainly did not become higher or lower since the last order."

The cardassian went round Julian busily, touching his shoulders as if by chance. There was something intimate in _how_ he was doing it. Each time — each time the doctor couldn't but tremble a little, though trying to not give himself away.

"One more check will do no harm," the tailor smiled with the corners of his lips. "Do you mind?"

"No, I just don't see the point," Julian answered somewhat more nervously than expected.

"Maybe you're just not looking hard enough?"

Garak was laughing again.

"If I didn't know you as well as I do, Garak, I could imagine that you are flirting with me."

"Perhaps," the cardassian drawled enigmatically.

"But Garak," Julian's palms became unpleasantly wet in a flash, "we are just friends."

"If you say so, my dear Julian."


	3. Disguise

Julian's lips were soft. At least, it was what Julian was thinking himself because lips of the cardassian that was pressing him into wall seemed much more dry and rough — that, however, wasn't depriving the touch of some delicacy. Having felt that he can breathe again, the doctor stared at Garak whose face got the impassive expression again with astonishment.

"Garak, _what have you..._ done right now?"

The cardassian didn't seem to seize the essence of the matter.

"What of my actions seemed unclear to you, doctor?"

Julian blushed, trying to maintain composure. But the idea of Garak looking damn good in the classic suit of the mid-twentieth century, according to the old earth calendar, didn't want to leave his head. Having drawn an unmistakable conclusion from the prolonged silence about the possible causes of the doctor's sudden embarrassment, the cardassian parted his lips in amazement.

"But haven't you explained to me this trick that was frequently used in old spy movies yourself, have you? The hero kisses the heroine, and the pursuers run past without noticing them."

"But Garak... we are just friends."

"But they did ran past, didn't they?"


	4. Shoulders

"Doctor Bashir! What do you think you are doing?!"

Garak had been always unpredictable, but Julian didn't expect such a reaction. He removed his hands and sat on his place in front of the cardassian. The replimat was crowded, but it never prevented them from creating an imaginary invisible wall that would screen them off from all the others during lunch.

"Nothing special. You do often put your hands on my shoulders, appearing like from nowhere. Why couldn't I do the same at least once?"

It seemed that Garak was close to change his color. Julian took a cup of tarkalian tea and turned back, foretasting another entertaining conversation.

"I am bringing to your notice, doctor, that the difference in anatomical structure between humans and cardassians implies some… _distinction_ in perceptions. To put hands on someone's shoulders on Cardassia is considered to be a very intimate gesture."

"And you do that all the time," said Julian.

"You're not a cardassian."

"Exactly, I'm putting quite human meaning in this gesture. We are just friends, aren't we?"

Garak said nothing.


	5. Fitting

Touches of Garak's fingers were pleasantly unsmooth and cool, sending shivers down his back. He ran the tip of his forefinger along Julian's spine, forcing the shuddering exhale out of him.

"Garak... are you sure that what are you doing right now is _really_ necessary for a fitting?"

The heavy cloth that was covering the entrance to the fitting room swayed as by the wind — to all appearances another customer entered the shop.

"Just a moment," the tailor said and got out.

Julian didn't waste his time and shoved his hands into the sleeves, taking care to not damage basted seams. Having the apologies to the customer made and a promise to order the targeted shade of silk in the nearest future given, Garak was back to the fitting room just in time to see the doctor eventually causing one of still remaining in the fabric pins to slip out by an awkward movement.

"My dear doctor," he remarked reproachfully, "you would considerably ease my task, if allowed to dress and undress you on my own."

"But Garak," Julian smiled archly, "we are just friends."

"If that's the case, stop moving."


	6. Personal space

Garak had a very faint idea of the personal space. Or, perhaps, it applied just to Julian's personal space.

By having a habit of appearing suddenly and silently, the cardassian discovered himself almost always to be at the distance of no more than a couple of inches. This tense sensation of the moment before the touch — that more often didn't happen — made Julian feel quite insecure, while Garak, on the contrary, clearly enjoyed every such moment.

"You took me by surprise again," the doctor shuddered.

The cardassian took his usual place at the table and smiled in response.

"You never cease to amaze me, my dear Julian. You wait for me for lunch, but at the same time my every appearance takes you by surprise."

"You sneak up," he objected. "Besides, _not every." _

"Oh, stop it," Garak snorted. "You are the man of the high self-control, but you won't fool me. Your praiseworthy repressed shiver and tension are easy to discern."

"You are talking like a true predator," Julian raised his eyebrows.

"Indeed, my dear Julian," Garak's lips trembled, "we are just friends."


	7. A cold

Julian sneezed. Garak cast a suspicious sidelong look at him, clutching a cup of hot beverage in his hands.

"I hope, you haven't got ill, doctor, have you?"

"A common cold," Julian waved away. "Nothing you should worry about."

The cardassian tightened his lips disapprovingly.

"You are well aware that I can hardly stand the cold and other hardships at this station. So let me decide what I should worry about and what I shouldn't."

"Garak, I..." Julian looked a bit guilty, "I do really not think that it's contagious."

"You don't think so? That is, you _don't know?"_ Garak's eyeridges lifted menacingly. "And so after that you do still call yourself a doctor?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't want to say, my dear Julian, but you treat your health with a criminal negligence."

"And it is you telling me this?"

"Somebody should."

Julian opened his mouth to retort, but changed his mind.

"Garak, are you... worried about me?"

"No more than I should," the cardassian chuckled. "We are just friends."


	8. Responsible tailor

There were more patients in the infirmary than usual. A small epidemic, caused by the failure of heating in one of the residential sectors, was exciting in Julian an irresistible desire to contact chief O'Brian to clarify, how was the work on the restoration progressing. He wasn't in the best of health himself, that's why the meeting with Garak had to be canceled, and moreover, Julian still had to stay late to help all the injured.

What Julian didn't expect at all is that the cardassian would appear the same evening at his doorstep with a jar of some remedy in his hands.

"You missed the fitting," he said, stepping in. "I received your message, but decided to make sure personally that you are alright."

"Garak, I—"

"Should rest, I presume. Your shift is over. Or should I got you to bed _myself?" _

Julian blinked, stepping back.

"What is it?"

"An old cardassian recipe. If you take off your clothes, I can rub you."

"But Garak," Julian smiled weakly, "we are just friends."

"So let me be your friend."


	9. Nothing special

"Today I want to surprise you."

Julian took a program from Quark and headed to holorooms.

"Are these your spy tricks again?"

"No," the doctor smiled enigmatically. "I thought that _something_ might seem interesting for you."

"Indeed?"

Garak raised his eyeridges.

"Close your eyes."

Pausing before the entrance, the cardassian looked closely at his companion's face.

"My dear Julian, do I really have to remind—"

"Just do it, Garak."

With a dissatisfied snort he still complied the request, taking a step forward. It smelled fresh.

"You may open."

They were standing on the snow-covered plateau. The sky was snowing huge flakes of snow, the forest on the left hand was covered with them, like wrapped, and the mountain foothills stretched ahead. Garak looked around and shifted his gaze to Julian.

"Doctor, did you seriously think that I've never seen snow?"

The tips of Julian's ears turned pink, though he shrugged uncertainly himself.

"I did not reject such a possibility."

"I'm really sorry for disappointing you. You planned our meeting so carefully."

"It's alright. We are just friends."


	10. Sense of rhythm

"Garak, you don't even listen to what I say!"

"It isn't true, my dear Julian, I am listening carefully and follow your instructions."

The doctor winced painfully again.

"I thought you have a sense of rhythm."

"Oh, I do! And I can assure you, you will feel that soon. Just let me get into the beat."

Julian exhaled.

"And yet I still don't know, how did you manage to persuade me? It would be much easier if you were taught to dance by the hologram. And safer — for my feet for sure."

Garak made a wry face.

"If not for your persistent striving to introduce me to the Earth culture in response to my modest attempts of enlightenment in the field of literature and good taste, such a situation wouldn't have arisen at all."

"So it was me treading on my own fingers?"

"In a certain sense, yes."

Julian rolled up his eyes.

"Oh, just fine."

"Show patience. There are _many_ ways to give a demonstration of the sense of rhythm, doctor. But we are just friends."


	11. Special books

"Well, that's it, fits perfectly."

Garak straightened the last folds, peering at Julian that looked in the mirror, clearly pleased with the result.

"I must admit that your skills are just astonishing, Garak. I wonder, was the Obsidian Order aware of them or did you keep your hidden talents a secret?"

The cardassian smiled discreetly.

"Oh, doctor, are you still amusing yourself with such fantasies?"

Julian smiled in response.

"Let's better discuss, wouldn't you like to vary your wardrobe with something cardassian?"

"Cardassiaan?" Julian was surprised. "Do you believe that a tunic with a wide collar will suit me?"

Garak squinted thoughtfully.

"Actually, I wanted to offer you a completely different style. Such a wide collar will definitely expose your collarbones."

"Is that bad?" Julian grinned.

"Not at all, but before taking such a bold step, you should better first familiarize yourself with some kind of very... _special_ works of cardassian literature."

"I suspect, it was a pretext to give me some books again. How cunning of you."

"Indeed, doctor. Such books as these? We are just friends."


	12. Helplessness

"Damn it!"

Julian keyed the data output command once again, but nothing changed. The computer was still blocking the new program, sent from Earth.

The doors of the infirmary opened, letting Garak in.

"Purely by accident, I run into chief O'Brian — he was in a hurry to work some serious malfunctions out and asked me to come to you if I can find time," the cardassian smiled, barely crossed the threshold. "What can I do for you?"

Julian sighed.

"The cardassian equipment keeps making surprises. One of the old subprograms that were supposed to be deleted activated and came into conflict with the one, received yesterday. I'm completely helpless," he spread his hands.

"Oh, _I see,"_ Garak's lips trembled. "Let me take a look?"

The doctor nodded, half-stepping away.

Having examined closely the dashboard, on which the inscriptions in cardassian were flickering, changing one another, Garak touched a few of them and said something. After a blink, the screen showed the unsuccessfully requested by Julian data.

"I would say, helplessness suits you, doctor," the cardassian's eyes laughed. "But we are just friends."


	13. Awareness

"And all the same I wonder," Julian began, giving his face an expression of sincere curiosity way too pointedly, "what other skills are taught in the Obsidian order?"

Garak glanced at his companion with a slight reproach.

"You are up to this again, doctor, aren't you? Hoping that one day I get tired of repeating one and the same, and I will invent for you an amusing story about my supposed adventures?"

Julian shrugged indefinably.

"Obviously, at least a course of cardassian literature is given," he gave Garak an expressive look. "And what about the dressmaking?"

The tailor smiled.

"My dear Julian, a good taste in literature is like the rules of good form. They either are present or not. I may say the same about the art of sewing. To create a decent outfit — contrive it and then produce it in a high quality manner — a talent is needed."

"You are perfectly aware — for someone, who is not the Obsidian Order," archness shone through Julian's eyes.

"I prefer to be aware. However, not every knowledge I can _share_ with you. We are just friends."


	14. Breakdown

Garak was surprised at such a late call. Not that it was strange by itself, it was the visitor being strange who had come to him at such a late hour.

"Doctor Bashir?"

"Evening, Garak. I missed our lunch today."

There was no need to smell, it was too obvious.

"Doctor, you're drunk," the cardassian cried, amazed. "I do not recall myself ever seeing you in such a state. What happened?"

He stepped back, letting him into his quarters.

"Nothing special, I just thought that I could split a bottle of something with you, but it seems that I started without you."

He waved a half-empty bottle, misstepping, and Garak caught him by the shoulders. Julian lifted a lacklustre look at him and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the lips. The cardassian moved over.

"Doctor, you are not yourself."

Julian laughed, but the unnatural glitter in his eyes spoke better than words.

"Julian," Garak's voice relented, "you have been already losing your patients. It is not _your_ fault."

"Just don't 'we are just friends' at me today."


	15. Apologies

His head ached desperately. But much more important was to find Garak and apologize to him. The problem was that Julian had no idea about how to start a conversation. Already standing in front of a tailor's shop, he did not dare to cross the threshold and would stand here for who knows how long, if Garak didn't go out himself to meet him halfway.

"Oh, doctor," he gave him an appraising look. "You are much _less_ persistent today, aren't you?"

Julian blushed.

"Garak, I... remember very vaguely what happened yesterday, but realize that I acted inappropriately towards you."

The face of the cardassian seemed utterly inscrutable.

"You've done nothing that I wouldn't let you to."

Julian blushed even more.

"But I... I believe that I..."

"Fell asleep in my living room," Garak sighed shortly and made a helpless gesture. "I had to undress you because there is only one bed in my quarters."

Julian swallowed nervously, and the cardassian couldn't help chuckling.

"Never mind, doctor. We are just friends."


	16. Attentiveness

"Attentiveness is one of the traits needed to any good tailor."

"Or a good spy," Julian noticed, sending a leaf of lettuce to his mouth.

It seemed that Garak preferred to turn a deaf ear to his remark.

"Details — that's important. To observe the smallest details is my main task."

"As a spy?" doctor's lips trembled in a little teasing smile.

"As a tailor," Garak parried, giving his companion an expressive look. "However, if I were a spy, nothing would escape my attention as well."

At that very moment one of freighter captains approached their table, addressing him with a question. Seizing the fact that the cardassian was busy, Julian stretched out his hand with the intention to grab some bajoran vegetable from his plate, but was caught by the wrist just when his fingers were already on their way back.

"Did you want to test me, doctor?"

Garak turned to him, smiling with his usual smile. Julian grinned.

"You won't punish me for that, will you?"

"I _might._ But we are just friends."


	17. Sincerity

"Sometimes I wonder, Garak, are you genuinely pleased to see me or is it just one of your smiles," Julian said thoughtfully, fingering the fabric samples.

The tailor looked up from the ceremonial dress, to which the edge was left to sew, and lifted his eyeridges in surprise.

"What makes you think so, good doctor?"

Julian shrugged indefinably.

"You are impenetrable. I know you for a few years, but, I'm afraid, I've never learned to distinguish truth from falsehood," he shook his head, "if at all possible."

The cardassian gave him a long peering look.

"Well, doctor, if that's that case, then how would you know if I am telling the truth if I say that I'm always glad to have your company?"

Julian laughed.

"I'm afraid, I have to take your word for that."

Garak smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side in a familiar gesture.

"If you knew _a little bit more_ about the cardassian body language, doctor, you wouldn't ask such questions."

Julian raised his eyes, surprised.

"Perhaps, I could tell you, but — we are just friends."


	18. Trust

"You're too trusting, doctor," there was disapproval in Garak's gaze. "This is precisely what quite often becomes the source of your problems."

"I wouldn't say that I'm that naive," Julian objected, splitting off a piece of dessert with a fork. "Just make mistakes sometimes."

The cardassian leaned back and shook his head.

"You trust everyone and anyone. Chief O'Brien, lieutenant Dax, major Kira, commander Sisko—"

"But listen—" Julian interrupted him.

"—me."

A short silence fell.

"You are a spy, and I know almost nothing about you, _but,"_ he took a deep breath, "I do consider you a friend. And yes, I trust you."

"That's what I am talking about, doctor. You trust me, although you know almost nothing about me."

"You know, Garak," Julian said thoughtfully, looking the cardassian straight in the eyes, "sometimes I think that one day you might offer me an apple, and I would accept it."

Garak slowly lowered his chin to his clasped hands and tilted his head to the side.

"I'm afraid you're going too far. We are just friends."


	19. Friends

In these latter days it seemed to Julian that Garak avoided him. And did this quite ably and featly, using his press of work as an unfailing pretext to make excuses.

"Garak, if you are in any kind of trouble, you can share it with me."

The cardassian looked up from his plate in surprise.

"It is very kind of you, doctor, but I have no troubles — just a lot of work. Besides, it is unlikely that you would be able to help me with non-acceptable tellarite cloth."

Julian gave him a long peering look.

"You don't look very fit."

"Now that sounds almost insulting," the cardassian pointed out with reproof.

Ignoring the last remark, the doctor reached for a tricorder, determined to scan Garak, but he managed to catch his hand.

"I prefer to cope with my problems myself."

"So you admit there are some?" Julian raised his eyebrows expressively.

"Leave it, doctor," the voice of the cardassian sounded weary. "We are just friends."

"Exactly, Garak, we are _friends."_


	20. Cultural exchange

Julian shuddered at the familiar gentle touch and raised his head.

"I think, I owe you my apologies, doctor," Garak said, settling himself down across from him. His voice sounded soft and bland, filling the space around. "But I hope that my certain aloofness won't be the reason for you to disagree to share a dinner with me."

Julian froze for a moment, fork halfway to his mouth.

"A dinner?" he asked, rather surprised.

"I wanted to offer you another play when suddenly realized that, having given myself entirely to the literature, I quite lost sight of other cultural values that could be of interest for you. As you know, there are no cardassian dishes in replicators, so the only way to introduce you to them is to have you for dinner."

Julian smiled archly.

"I didn't know you can cook, Garak," he tilted his head to the side. "Sounds like a date."

"Because _it is,"_ Garak's lips trembled. "As a part of cultural exchange. We are just friends."


	21. Are we?

The few times that Julian had been in Garak's quarters, he had noticed how much uninhabited did they seem. It wasn't because of the lack of the remembrances, but because of something elusive that he couldn't entitle. However, the table set for dinner represented the complete antithesis to the hovering aloofness, filling the air with scents of the unknown to Julian dishes and spices.

When the dinner came to an end, the cardassian led him to the door.

"I hope, the familiarity with the cardassian cuisine turned out to be to your liking, my dear Julian."

"You are displaying your hidden talents again, Garak," Julian smiled.

After hesitating for a moment, he leaned forward, but the cardassian managed to set a palm in front of himself, holding him just a couple of inches before the touch.

"My dear Julian, I'm grateful to you for the nice evening we spent... but we are just friends."

Julian stared him in the eyes and tilted his head slightly to the side — exactly the way Garak used to do so. Having taken the hand of the cardassian by the wrist, he moved it aside.

_"Are we?"_


End file.
